SILAS POV
Trish didn’t ask.
She never did. Apparently not her forte.
One second we were loading into the jet with the triplets, rage humming so loud inside me that it felt like the metal of the plane was vibrating with it, and the next she was there, already strapped in, arms crossed, jaw set, eyes sharp in a way I hadn’t seen in years.
No permission. No discussion.
She had simply decided she was coming.
I didn’t tell her no. I wouldn’t have been able to even if I wanted to.
The five of us filled the cabin with something heavy and volatile. Heat, Hudson, Harrison, Trish, and me. Too much rage, too much grief, too much anger compressed into a space too small to contain it without blood being spilled. We were the kind of group that didn’t travel for diplomacy.
The boys were still in
